


prompt fills: the wayhaven chronicles

by impossible_rat_babies



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Gen, Microfic, One Shot, One Shot Collection, POV Third Person, Snippets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26388754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossible_rat_babies/pseuds/impossible_rat_babies
Summary: A bunch of wayhaven prompt fills I've done. mostly mason x detective!
Relationships: Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles), NB!Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles)
Kudos: 10





	prompt fills: the wayhaven chronicles

**Author's Note:**

> brief book 3 demo spoilers!

Mason hates the big city.

The sounds of the thousands of cars and their incessant beeping horns grates against his eardrums and he tastes the soot from the exhaust on the back of his tongue. He still does even though it’s been almost an hour of sitting in some bland therapists office waiting room, running his tongue over his teeth and counting the ceiling tiles.

Its the sharp sting of antiseptic crawling up his nose now, accented by the shitty wax melt fragrance put out to make the therapists office more “homey” or perhaps “more inviting” to the clients. It only helps with the riot of a headache pounding in his temples and he closes his eyes, heaving a sigh out of his nose.

He had agreed to go with Pollux–agreed, not been asked (or ordered) by Ava to go with him. He had actually wanted to go, stupidly enough. Sit in a car with Pollux for an hour, listening to his music and offhanded sing alongs, and parade through the city. A wonderful choice, one he doesn’t quite understand why he made.

Ordinarily it would be out of Unit Bravos purview to go along with the Detective on personal business, but with the trapper bounty out they can’t afford to not be careful. If something happened and none of them were there to stop it or to help out…Pollux thinks he capable enough and most trappers are indeed merely humans (and mason has seen what pollux can do to a man in his way) but there’s more than just humans who know about the bounty. None of them are eager to find out what would happen if Pollux did get caught by Trappers.

Mason knows–knows very well what would happen–and roughly pushes the thought out of his mind. He slumps further in the seat, arms crossed and freezing hands shoved into his armpits. Another thing he hates about doctors offices: it isn’t even summer and the AC is blasting like it’s a heat wave. He can hardly feel his hands. He fidgets in the seat, looking over at the door Pollux had passed through just over an hour ago. There’s dull voices on the other side, other people who have passed through the waiting room not long after Pollux had disappeared past the door.

Pollux only talked briefly about his visits to the big city like this–explanations months ago when Murphy was still stalking around and Unit Bravo needed to know Pollux’s schedule. They had been small affairs in notebooks and diaries, visits only twice a month and they had been deemed safe enough that he didn’t need someone to go along with him at the time. He hadn’t talked about the reason for the visits, cagey on it as he had been with most private matters on his schedule. (It had been like pulling teeth to get him to show them his schedules.)

It wasn’t until after Murphy that the visits had gone back to once a week, with other matters labeled “group” added to the repertoire.

Mason had heard the aftermath of the fight between Pollux and Rebecca on the matter. Pollux had grumbled between curse words over how he wasn’t going to see some special Agency therapist he didn’t trust when he still had the same one he had been seeing since he got clean. It didn’t matter the how of what had happened, only how it made him feel.

And Unit Bravo had gotten a good taste of how it had to feel.

The door squeaks open, pushing memories of screaming nightmares down without Mason even trying and he looks up.

“You remember that you have group next Thursday?” The therapist says, pausing Pollux before he runs off.

“Yes. You still want me to go?”

“I think you should. If nothing else it would be nice to see the others, see how things are going with them. They ask about you sometimes.”

A sigh “I’ll be there, put me down.”

A smile and a squeeze of the shoulder. “Have a good day, Pollux.”

Mason stands and wanders over to Pollux as he approaches the counter, only half listening as Pollux settles any brief outstanding business. Mason catches the the receptionist giving him a look over and she quickly looks away, the tips of her ears turning a bright red and her heart skips a beat. Hardly a reaction Mason isn’t used to, but he looks away and back down at Pollux. At least people are predictable in how they grate on his nerves.

He watches Pollux quick sign a page or two before and he hands the clipboard back, tacking on a forced smile and a clipped thank you and goodbye.

“Ready?” Pollux asks and Mason nods, shepherding him on with a hand at the small of his back. Pollux leans in closer towards him, shoulder brushing against him.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Mason asks as they step out onto the street, pausing for a moment so he can light up a much needed cigarette.

“Peachy…” He grumbles and that’s a lie he isn’t even bothering to hide. Mason knows the hunch of his shoulders, body held tight and the off color redness tinging the grey circles under his eyes. He’s seen it before and Pollux sniffles, tucking his hands deep into his pockets.

An admission, quietly when it had just been the two of them; Pollux had felt like talking, and Mason had time to listen.

It didn’t always make him feel better, going to therapy. It made him feel like utter shit more often than not, especially after Murphy. How was he supposed to talk about how he’d been scared–terrified–out of his mind by what had happened? How was he supposed to make sense out of madness of Murphy, his words still crawling around inside of his head like a maggot worming around under the skin?

There’s nothing to make sense of it and Mason’s stomach churns.

Smoke billows out of Mason’s mouth in a long stream and he sighs, shelving away the question of why it makes his stomach churn. “You ready to get out of this dump, sweetheart?”

Pollux looks up him, grey eyes matching the gloomy sky above and he nods, slowly. The littlest tell that he’ll be alright–a hint of a smile curling the corners of his lips.

“Yeah…let’s go sunshine.” Mason manages something like half a smile back at him, wrapping his arm around Pollux’s shoulder and he leans against him, arm snaking around his waist and he gently squeezes him close.


End file.
